


Uncharted: The Next Legacy

by BrothersDrake



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrothersDrake/pseuds/BrothersDrake
Summary: She was named after a pirate her father had been obsessed with finding, before he left her mother without a word and never returned. Now being forced to relocate from New York to move in with the uncle she never knew she had, Avery Turner learns a thing or two about family and what it means to belong somewhere. SET AFTER UNCHARTED: THE LOST LEGACY.





	1. The Beginning

_People do not decide to become extraordinary._

_They decide to accomplish extraordinary things._

_-Sir Edmund Hillary_

* * *

 

Avery didn't care much for the whole "school" thing.

"You do realize your future is on the line here, Ms. Turner?" Principal Wales was a stocky man, though you'd only know that if you were in his office as much as Avery Turner was, because the man hardly moved from behind his desk. Avery considered this a proud accomplishment. If he were to ever finally snap and beat on her like she could tell he wanted to do sometimes, she could provide helpful details to the police.

"My future is defined by actions I choose at 14 years old?" Avery questioned, leaning back in her seat and staring at the man before her. "Somehow, I doubt that."

"How wrong you are, Ms. Turner." Principal Wales sighed, taking his glasses off and clasping his hands before him. "You see, the choices we make always have a way of circling back around and affecting us in.."

Avery stared at the wedding ring on his finger, wondering _who on earth would marry such a boring man_ as she pretended to listen to the same tirade the adults at school give her at least once a week.

"...and sometimes, when we make the wrong choices.."

Letting out a small breath, Avery averted her eyes to the ceiling. _Choices, actions, school is important, nothing else, become a zombie and do as we say._

"… listening to me? Ms. Turner?"

"Of course I am, Mr. Wales." Glancing up at the clock on the wall to her left, Avery took her cue early, standing and slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder. Slowly backing towards the door, she held her hands out wide, "From now on, my choices will be specifically designed for my future as an upstanding citizen of New York City. Scouts honor."

With that, Avery turned on her heel and rushed for the door, ignoring Principal Wales' voice calling out from behind her. It was soon drowned out by the bell alarming and hoards of students filled the hallway of St. Mary's School for Troubled Girls. Avery pulled the hood up on her jacket, stumbling through her pockets for her headphones before popping the buds in and turning on her MP3 player as she shoved her way through the crowd.

Instantly, No Doubt's "It's My Life" began to play as Avery made her way down the steps of the school.

_He's going to call mom, I'm going to be busted- again- and she's going to stress out even more._ Avery thought to herself, shaking her head as she passes yelling merchants on the side of the road attempting to sell high priced items. _What a great daughter you are, Ave. Can't even stay out of trouble for one week._

"Ah! There you are, pequeño alborotador." Avery heard through the sound of her earbuds. Glancing up, she grins at the short man selling multitudes of fruit.

"Marco!" She rushes over, throwing her arms around his neck and she hugs him. Standing at five feet two inches, Avery Turner wasn't a very tall girl, but she still towered over Marco. His easy-going personality and positive outlook on life made up for that, in Avery's opinion. "Stop calling me that."

"But you are a little troublemaker, are you not?" Marco winked, tossing her an orange, which she didn't catch at all and rolled under the trolley of fruit.

"You know I can't catch," she rolled her eyes, crossing her arms before a smirk appeared on her face, "and of course I am."

Marco laughs and Avery shrugs the hood off of her head. "Where have you been? I was a little worried."

"Surprise trip to Mexico to visit my family." The elderly man sighs, a look of longing on his face. "I do miss them, but the money is made here in America."

Grimicing with sympathy, Avery decided to take her exit. She was never good with comforting people, and while she adored Marco, he was no different. "See ya, old man. Tell Maria hi for me?"

"You got it, pequeño alborotador. Don't get in too much trouble, sí?"

Avery jogged backwards, throwing her hands out beside her. "No promises."

* * *

 

"Yes, I understand-… But I'm never late, can't you make an exception?"

Avery sat her bag down on the counter of their small apartment, sitting in the old wooden chair at the table and staring at her mom as she stands outside the door, smoking a cigarette.

"Well, yes, there was that one tim-… okay, and that one, too, but.."

Sighing, Avery traced patterns in the dust on the dinner table. She wasn't sure what it was, but it began to oddly resemble some of the Egyptian hieroglyphs from her history textbook. Avery didn't like school, but she didn't mind learning. Especially history.

"I'm not sure what you want me to do. I work two jobs."

Avery's mother stood there a moment longer, before slowly lowering the phone from her eat and without warning, throwing it down to the ground below with a frustrated scream. Avery jumped, not having expected the sudden display of anger, and cautiously stood. "Mom?"

Addison Turner glanced sideways at her daughter, hands on her hips and taking deep breaths. "I can't do this anymore."

"Do what? Work two jobs? I can try to-"

"No, I can handle the jobs, kid." She sneered, rolling her eyes. Avery felt her own narrow, gearing herself up for the fight she knew was coming. "What I can't handle is my own daughter going down the same self-destructive path as her worthless father!"

Oh.

"So, Principal Wales called, huh?" Avery bit her lip, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

"Oh, he called. Again, Avery? Really?"

"We need the money, Mom." Avery sighed, sitting back in the chair and putting her hands on the table. "It was worth a shot, I had to try-"

"You're lucky Sister Gretchen isn't pressing charges!" Her mother exploded, her temper matching her red hair. Avery suddenly thought of how much she didn't look like her mother, with her own deep chocolate eyes and waist length brown hair. She did inherit the Turner Irish pale skin and freckles, though.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sorry." Avery shrugged, not willing to lie to appease her mother anymore. Other people, sure. Avery would lie her ass off. But her mother? She knew Avery through and through; there was no lying, even if Addison Turner wanted her to. "Maybe I'm just destined to be worthless like my father."

Her mother had gone silent, staring at her with round blue eyes and mouth set in a straight line. Then she looked around their home; a pitiful apartment with windows busted out and tattered furniture. Perhaps the only attractive section of their home was Avery's book collection in the corner. Despite being on the dirty floor, the books remain in perfect condition, stacked neatly and obviously well taken care of.

Glancing back at her daughter, Avery saw something set in her mothers eyes. She lit another cigarette, this time inside, and took a long drag from it. Avery sat patiently, waiting to hear what punishment she'd have this time. Last month, it was helping Mrs. O'Conner next door clean out all her litter boxes. Avery was sure she's going to hell because she promised the Lord she'd never steal again.

"I'm sending you away."

_Wait, what?_

"Wait, what?"

"You heard me." Her mother nodded her head, as if satisfied with her decision. She threw the remains of the cigarette out the window, crossing the apartment and grabbing her coat from the floor beside the door and shrugging it on. "I have to make a few calls- get a new phone-, and try to track him down.."

"Hold on, track who down? Where are you sending me? I'm fourteen, that's like, illegal-"

"Illegal," her mother scoffed, "like stealing from nuns?"

"That.. that's different, and you know it!" Avery stood, rushing after her mother and she started down the stairs of their apartment building. "I'm your daughter, and okay, I'll admit, I messed up but-"

Addison stopped, turning around to face her ranting daughter and whispered, "Your uncle."

Avery stopped, staring at her mother from the top of the staircase. "My who?"

"Your uncle. Your father had a younger brother, Nathan, and I'm going to find him. That's where you're going, so you better hope like hell he'll take you in."


	2. The Surprise

_“Sic Parvis Magna”_

_Greatness from Small Beginnings_

_-Sir Francis Drake_

* * *

Nathan Drake wasn’t one to be taken by surprise often.

Sure, he’d had his fair share of mishaps- collapsing buildings, sinking ships, cliff falling that had resulted in his near death-, but had he ever been _truly_ , _honestly_ shocked at an event throughout his life? He had once wondered about this quite a lot. Was his upbringing to blame, being left on the streets and having to be prepared for anything? Or was it just in his genetic makeup to adapt to any situation without much of a thought? Besides his brother seemingly coming back from the dead the year before, Nathan couldn’t remember a time where he had been left speechless by a particular event.

Until late one evening on March the ninetieth of 2016, that is.

 The phone call was answered by Elena, sitting on the couch sending an email to the crew of _D &F Fortunes._ The show had taken off quite well the year before, so much so that Nate was now being recognized in airports and sometimes even being asked for photographs. Elena tended to stay behind the camera nowadays, something that had confused Nate to begin with but was now starting to understand, giving the attention he was receiving. Nate was the pretty face, but Elena was the boss.

“Hello?” He heard her say from the kitchen as he searched around in hopes for one more plate in their sparse cabinets. Due to the success of the show, the small Drake-Fisher family decided to pack up their things from busy New Orleans and move to their own private beach house in Hawaii. With everything settled and signed, now all that’s left to do is find time to pack everything and move it. So far, they have the packing thing down- it’s the moving part that’s proving to be difficult. “No, this is his wife. Can I help you?”

Nate glanced behind him, halting his search for a plate. Elena raised an eyebrow at him, listening to the other person speak over the phone.

“He’s right here. Give me just a second.” Removing the phone from her ear, Elena stands and makes her way to Nate, placing the phone on mute. She gives him a questioning look, “Addison Turner?”

“Who?” Nate furrows his eyebrows, mentally searching through his journal and trying to remember a contact with that name scribbled somewhere.

“No idea.” Elena shrugs, handing him the phone. “Seemed like she really needs to talk to you though. Maybe she wants to hire you to find a lost city?”

“Ha ha,” Nate rolled his eyes, grabbing the phone from her, “really, you should be a comedian. We can give you air time on the show and everything.”

“Answer the phone, cowboy.” Elena laughs, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.

Knowing her curiosity is getting the best of her, Nate clicks the phone off mute and puts it on speaker. “Drake here.”

“Are you Nathan?” A rough female voice asked, obviously a smoker, and Nate couldn’t help but be reminded of his brother.

He should really call him soon. Last he’d heard, he was off somewhere in India with Chloe Frazer and Nadine Ross, of all people.

“That’s me. How can I help you, Ms. Turner?” Nate asked, chuckling as Elena leans in closer.

_Still always looking for a story._

“I knew your brother. Sam Drake?” Addison Turner replied. Nate raised both eyebrows, shaking his head at Elena’s questioning glance.

“Well, I’m sorry to say he’s not here. Is there anything I can help you with?” Nate tried to direct the conversation away from his criminal brother, but the woman across the phone wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, for starters you can tell him he’s a real son of a bitch.”

Nate choked on a laugh. “He hears that on a daily basis, I assure you.”

“And secondly, you can tell him his _daughter_ appreciates everything he’s done for her. Real stand up guy, your brother. Tells me stories about how we’ll leave this city and find Henry Avery’s treasure and live a life full of riches..”

But Nate wasn’t listening.

_Daughter?_

**_Sam_ ** _has a daughter?_

 ** _He_ ** _has a niece?_

Seeing that Nate wasn’t going to speak anytime soon, Elena cut’s the woman’s ramblings off, “I’m sorry, we’re just a bit confused. You and Sam have a baby?”

“Well, not a baby anymore, though sometimes she’s childish enough to pass as one. She’s fourteen, and she’s on her way to you as we speak.”

“Whoa, _what?_ ” Nate finally snaps out of his daze, grabbing the phone from Elena’s hand and begins to pace across their almost empty apartment. “How do you know where we are? Why is she coming here? _Who_ even are you? I’ve never heard of you!”

“Did your brother always tell you about the women he slept with?” Addison fired back. Nate could hear her take a deep drag of her cigarette and car horns blaring in the background.

“Well, I guess not, but that still doesn’t answer my questions.”

“You’re not hard to track down for a celebrity, you know. You should probably work on that.” Addison replies. “As far as your niece, she’s on her way to you because I can’t do it anymore.”

Nate, as well as being shocked, doesn’t get angry often. It only happens when his friends or family is threatened, or when he’s facing truly evil people who want to purposely harm innocent.

And, apparently, when his nieces’ mother wants to abandon her just like his father did 35 years ago.

“You can’t do it?” He scoffs, closing his eyes and clenching his teeth. “You can’t take care of a fourteen year old who more than likely takes care of herself?”

“I work two jobs just to keep us afloat, but I can’t even concentrate on that because I’m either getting called to the school or the jail to bail out said fourteen year old!” Addison snaps, her voice rising. “I’ve tried to raise her right. Teach her bad and good. But she’s either looking for trouble or, when she’s not, the trouble finds her and _I’m done._ I refuse to watch my daughter go down the same path as her father, so you can do it. Give Samuel my regards, and tell him to go fuck himself.” With that, Addison Turner hangs up.

Nate stares blankly at the phone in his hand, his mind still reeling but the anger diminishing.

 ** _Sam_ ** _has a daughter._

_Does **Sam** even know he has a kid? _

_Would he really keep that from me?_

Yes.

Yes, he would.

“Whoa.” Elena walks up behind him, arms still crossed tightly across her chest. “Whoa.”

“Holy shit.” Nate breathes, still staring at the phone. “There’s a fourteen year old kid on her way here right now.”

“Not just any fourteen year old kid.” Elena responds, placing her hand on Nate’s arm. He glances down at her. “Our fourteen year old niece.”


	3. The Realization

Samuel Drake stepped off the plane and stared at the heavens, wondering why whatever the hell was up there hated him so much.

First, he was given a shitty father and an emotionally unstable mother ( _may she rest in peace_ ). Said shitty father drops him and his little brother off in the nearest orphanage he can find and ditches, forcing Sam to step up and take his place as father- _and_ mother, technically- for his baby brother. Sam would never consider raising Nathan to be a burden, but he does feel a bit bitter towards the world that he never got to be a normal, shithead teenager.

Which is why he has mixed feelings about his so-called _daughter._

His first instinct is the deny it, deny _her,_ but why would she lie? Since the India job was a bust- _thanks, Chloe-_ , he didn’t have anything other than the shirt on his back. What would she gain by claiming the less-famous brother as her father? It didn’t add up.

Plus, there’s also the issue of Sam actually _remembering_ Addison Turner.

It was a quick fling for him. It wasn’t supposed to be forever, but from what Nathan had told Sam on the phone, Addison had thought it was. And now he has a kid by her.

_Samuel Drake, you are an ass._

But, really, could he be blamed when the kid wasn’t even born before he got shot and was stuck in prison for thirteen years? He didn’t even know she existed after that, and the thought to call Addison Turner up wasn’t one he’d considered when Rafe broke him out of Panama. He honestly had a hard time remembering who she was when Nathan called, but late nights spent with wild red hair on the silky pillows of her bedroom at her parents lavish home had come rushing back in an instant.

_A real living, breathing, shithead, teenage goddamn daughter._

“I don’t even know her name.” Sam whispered to no one, the New Orleans tarmac surprisingly deserted. Then again, it was close to three in the morning. A figure stepped out of the plane behind him, stretching his arms out wide and giving Sam a shit-eating grin, cigar hanging from his lips 

Sam _really_ wanted to punch Victor Sullivan sometimes.

“Ready to go meet your end, boyo?” Sully lit the cigar, chuckling around it as he shakes his head in disbelief. “A goddamn daughter.”  
  
“My thoughts exactly.” Sam sighed, running hands through his long hair. It had been nearly two years since he’d gotten it cut, since before Libertalia, and it was beginning to become a nuisance. Sam had the odd wondering of what his daughters’ hair was like, before he banished the train of thought from his mind.

_It’s a prank._

Scoffing at himself, he grabbed their bags and followed Sullivan towards the taxi cab waiting for them at the end of the tarmac. Nathan wouldn’t joke about something like that. _Hell,_ he thought, smirking slightly despite the fear coursing through his body, _Nathan ain’t smart enough to come up with such an elaborate prank, anyway._ Tossing the bags into the trunk of the taxi, he went around and took a seat by Sullivan in the back.

After wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the stupid cell phone Elena had practically forced him to get. It moved when you _touched_ it. Sam was still getting used to modern technology. He opened the screen to his and Nathan’s text messages 

**_Nate 1:24 am_ **

**_You okay?_ **

**_Sam 1:29 am_ **

**_Ask me in a few hours when I’m face to face with your niece._ **

**_Nate 1:30 am_ **

**_You mean your daughter?_ **

**_Sam 2:11 am_ **

**_Innocent until proven guilty, little brother._ **

**_Nate 2:13 am_ **

**_Sam, you know her mother._ ** ****

**_Sam 2:15_ **

**_I also know Elena’s mother- charming woman, by the way. Doesn’t mean she’s my kid._ ** **_  
Nate 2:19 am_ **

**_Elena’s mother makes a Descendant look charming._ **

**_Sam 2:20 am_ **

**_The zombie things?_**

**_Nate 2:21 am_ **

**_The zombie things._ **

Chuckling at his brothers distain for his mother-in-law, Sam fired off a text about he and Sully being on the way before placing the phone on his bouncing leg.

 _Am I ready for this?_


End file.
